If Her 45 Could Talk
by Lieutenant Caine
Summary: Calleigh from her .45's point of view. Companion piece to "If CSI-Unit One Could Talk".


**If Her .45 Could Talk**

**(Companion piece to "If CSI Unit One Could Talk")**

I remember lying there in my box, watching the hundreds of people mill about looking at me and my brothers and sisters. We'd been traveling for so long we were just glad to have the lid off the boxes so we could breath fresh air again. Our owner fussed and cussed under his breath while he arranged us about on the display table the way he wanted us. I ended up toward the front so I knew I would see a lot of handling that day.

By noon I was tired of being picked up and examined by rough voiced men who held me in a far too tight grip. Apparently they didn't realize that they didn't have to hold me so tight. Didn't they know I wasn't going anywhere as long as I was in their hand? In all honesty I have to admit that there have been times I kicked unnecessarily hard when someone was test firing me, but that was only to let them know that I knew they were inept when it came to handling a precision piece of equipment like myself. I was tired too of having my clip jerked out and then shoved, sometimes slammed back into my butt. I mean really! You cannot imagine how annoying that is.

A few people were gentle, and acted as though they knew what they were doing. One young man tried me out and I felt comfortable performing for him. His motions were smooth, his touch was firm, but not overly tight, and when he broke me down to examine my working parts, I didn't feel as though I were being violated. I did my best to please him as he fired off round after test round. I was just about to enjoy the idea of being his purchase when my owner told him my price. I saw the disappointment on his face and then heard him say, "I'm sorry, but I just can't afford that right now. Maybe later."

So I was placed back in my box to await the next round of rough handling. It was growing near closing time for the gun show and I had slipped into a light doze, when suddenly I heard a sound that brought me wide-awake in a heartbeat. I hadn't heard a southern accent that thick in a long time. It was warm, thick as sorghum molasses, utterly enticing and very feminine. Imagine my surprise when the sound stopped just above me and she spoke.

"Look, Horatio. Here's that .45 I've been wanting. Do we still have time for me to try it out before it closes?"

I heard my owner give an amused snort and I knew what he was thinking. _A woman who wants a gun…great day in the morning! Probably would scream at the sight of a June bug but she wants a gun._

Then I heard the man with her speak. That voice was distinctive too, deep; the sound of velvet and sandpaper combined. I don't mind telling you it was a pleasant voice to hear.

"I think we have time, Sweetheart. Sir (he addressed my owner with authoritative tone) we'd like to try the .45. Can you please take it out of the box for us?"

"Yeah, but ya better hurry. We only got 45 minutes left of the show 'for we're closed for the evening."

"I'm well aware of the time, sir. The gun please."

When my owner tried to hand it to the redheaded man, he shook his head 'no' and said simply, "It's for the lady."

I held my breath. The second her tiny hand closed over my grip, I knew this was where I wanted to be for the rest of my life. Her touch was warm and soft, but firm enough to handle me well. I felt her hands move to begin breaking me down, and half expected her to have difficulty, but again I was very pleasantly surprised. She was quick and professional, but didn't jerk me apart like most men did. I almost shivered as she carefully inspected each of my parts and then expertly reassembled me. It was growing clearer by the second that this lady knew guns and knew them well.

All the while she was handling me I watched her closely and came to this simple conclusion; an angel was playing hooky from heaven that day. She was gorgeous. Long blonde hair framed a face that might have been created by one of the master painters. Deep green eyes sparkled with delight as she examined me. That voice would have stirred hardened cement, and her body… Well…I almost broke out into a cold sweat.

Then the most incredible thing imaginable happened. She closed that perfect little hand over me and placed me into the holster at her hip. I don't mind telling you that I got a little giddy from her perfume at that close range. She drew me quickly and professionally a few times, tested me for balance and weight. I held my breath. _Oh, please, please, Ma'am…buy me. Please, _I thought quietly.

"I like it, Horatio. I want it."

The man spoke to my owner. "We'll take it."

XXXXXXXXX

It's been several years since that time, and I get feel a fierce thrill every time she clips me to her belt next to that gleaming MDPD badge. My life has been filled with excitement, adventure, danger, and too many close calls to remember. We've been through a lot together, she and I. Yes, I have a few score marks and scratches on my once perfectly burnished surface, but they are scars I won protecting her and I wear them proudly.

**A/N I'm sure everyone is aware that a good portion of the nation is baking in a brutal heat wave. I'm home this weekend for a rare weeked and when I woke this morning, it was raining outside, blessed, cool, refreshing rain. Athena was so thrilled with being at home for a change and with the rain that she fired off this little one shot in about 10 minutes time. Hope you enjoy.**

**Cal my love. Please stay inside and stay cool, for me. Much love my precious. **

**H**


End file.
